


Misunderstandings

by lizamarri



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: BAMF Michelle Jones, BAMF Peter Parker, Bisexual Peter Parker, Gay Harley Keener, I promise, I try to write romance and end up with smut, I wrote this literallt a year ago and found it and thought hey why now, M/M, Mild Smut, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Non-Explicit Sex, ive got a 35k that needs an epilogue then it’s all yours, keep in mind this is like a year old yall, more long fics are coming from me, nothinf descriptive don’t worry, parkner, peter and harley are both legal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24202720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizamarri/pseuds/lizamarri
Summary: Peter Parker thought his senior year would be a bit less crazy, but to no avail. Through a series of mishaps, Peter ends up in a... situation.A situation involving denying Harley Keener wants to hook up with him. The thing is, it’s true.But he doesn’t realize Harley wants more than a hook up.~//I suck at summaries but I promise it isn’t angst
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Harley Keener, Michelle Jones & Harley Keener & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, N - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 183





	Misunderstandings

**Author's Note:**

> lol I wrote this like,,,, last summer and just found it in my parkner fics folder

His locker closes with a snap.

Harley doesn’t like him. 

Harley  can’t like him. It just- he just can’t do that-

“Peter, you ok?” Ned sounds concerned, eyebrows scrunching with the same emotion.

“He doesn’t like me, Ned,” Peter gripes. “He doesn’t.”

“The fact that you repeated that last half phrase makes it very not true. He does like you.”

Ned looks him dead in the eye. “He. Likes. You.”

“I don’t want to be a one night stand or something,” Peter forces out. “It’ll be awkward and he’ll just want sex and I’ll want something more. It won’t work.”

“Fine, destroy yourself then,” Ned shrugs.

“Hey losers,” MJ says. “What’s up?”

“Peter’s denying Harley’s imminent crush on him.”

“Ned!” Peter hisses, as his last comment was rather loud. 

MJ smirks. “He likes you back.”

Ned huffs. “Well, Peter thinks he only wants him for a hook up.”

MJ bites her lip. “That... could be true.But!” She says in response to the what-did-I-tell-you look on Peter’s face, “He probably wants to, you know, actually date you. How do you know he’s even that type of person, you know, ‘one night stands’?” She says the last bit in air quotes. 

“He flirts with everybody,” Peter insists.

“So does Flash! And has Flash ever had sex? No. He hasn’t.”

“That’s because Flash is a dick,” Peter responds. “And not the fucking kind. Anyways, I’ve already had my losing my virginity awkwardly experience so I don’t need a hook up to get that out of the way.”

Ned chokes on air. “What?”

Peter seems to realize what he said and blushes. “I- what, no-“

“Who,” MJ commands. 

Peter wilts under her gaze. “Harry Osborn.”

“Fucking knew it!” She crows. “When did it happen.”

Peter sighs. “Last year. Before he moved. We never really worked anyways, it was something we both just wanted to... try.”

“Damn,” Ned says. “Peter’s not a virgin.”

Peter makes a noise of annoyance, still trying to stuff his books in his bag. “Why don’t you just announce it to the whole school then, huh? Just yell out ‘Peter Parker is not a virgin!’”

“Good to know.”

Peter jumps in fright and only looses his mind a little more when he sees Harley standing right there. “Oh my god.”

“Hi Harley,” MJ snickers. 

“Oh my god,” Peter repeats. “Fucking shit, could this day go any worse?”

“I don’t know, you’re kind of stacking up over here,” Harley comments. 

Peter looks him dead in the eye, pointing his finger. He deflates. “Not helping.”

Forgoing the book-fitting-in-his-bag act, he slings the bag over his shoulder and slams his locker shut. “What are you even doing here?”

Harley cocks his head. “I thought you’d be happy to see me, darling. But sadly I’m not here for you, I need to talk to MJ about decathlon. When’s the next meet?”

“Tuesday,” she answers. “Don’t be late or you’re fucking dead.”

“Good to know,” Harley confirms. “See you later sweetheart.” He winks at Peter then strides back down the hallway and out of sight.

“That was the most hardcore flirting I’ve ever seen,” Ned says in awe.

“I’ve seen worse,” MJ snorts. “You and Betty are a fluffy nightmare.”

“I do not flirt with Betty!” Ned cries.

“Come  on you two liars, I want to go home and be a shitty person,” MJ hollers. “Hurry up!”

Peter smiles at MJ before shouldering his bag again and walking after her, Ned trailing behind him. 

Once Ned and MJ have walked their separate ways home, Peter starts to think. He pops his headphones in his ears, and clicks shuffle. It cycles up an old NVDES song he’s been avoiding for the better part of a year. He presses skip. Next song is familiar, Fairly Local, 21 pilots. Another oldie, and a little too rough for his stance.

Next one. He puts his phone away before he sees the title, deciding that this is the song even it it’s Taylor Swift. 

It’s Panic! at the Disco. Dying in LA. Perfect. More like dying in New York but that’s not the point. The point is Harley.

Even thinking about him makes Peter’s skin tingle. 

After the... well, let’s be frank- it was a disaster, the relationship he had with Harry. He tried not to fall in love. Forced himself out of it, really. But Harley’s to damn good. 

Good is such an encompassing words. Harley’s too pretty, he’s too smart. Golden curls and freckled skin make him look like a blue eyed Achilles. The biceps don’t help either. 

It’s one thing to be buff because of the drugged up spider who bit you. It’s quite another to know that Harley made those himself. Probably working on cars or some shit.

Actually, Harley is a mechanic so the whole working on cars thing could make sense.

His brain is getting side tracked. What does he do about Harley? What can he do, to be honest.

Is he sure Harley’s even the type of person for a one night stand? What if he isn’t, and Harley is legitimately interested in him? Does he want a relationship?

The sounds of p!atd fade into another song. Billie, his brain recites numbly. Eilish. my boy. 

In search of an easier plight, he lets his brain slip back to the thought of Harley. His smile. His laugh. Those brilliant blue eyes. How as soon as he heard that southern twang and saw said brilliant eyes he knew he was a fucking goner. 

“What the fuck am I doing,” He whispers to himself, stopping dead on the sidewalk. “What. The. Fuck.”

Another pedestrian shoves past him with a few words, something like ‘vulgar teenagers’, and that’s what it takes before he comes back to Earth.

He’s fantasizing. About Harley. What it would be like to... kiss him. And touch him. How would those biceps feel, under his fingers? How would Harley’s mouth feel against his?

“What the fuck,” Peter mutters sing-songingly.

Picking up his pace, Peter strides back to his apartment. 

He’s going to kiss Harley fucking Keener tomorrow. Because who can stop him, right? He resists the urge to let out a whoop. 

Everything goes fucking wrong.

Harley is at class early. Which isn’t what he planned on, because Harley’snever early. Then, as soon as he’s about to talk to Harley, Flash jumps in and bugs the hell out of them so much he just opts to go away. All day he’s been sitting in classes and sweating like a prize hog for butchering because of stress. 

By the end of the day he’s nervous, and maybe strung a little too tight. He pushes off Ned and MJ with a small excuse of homework and patrol and the usual bullshit.

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

“Wh-what?” Peter stammers. 

Harley takes a step back. “It’s ok if you don’t- I mean, I didn’t really expect-“

“No!” Peter says, and it’s too loud. “I, um, actually wanted to talk. To you.”

“Ok,” Harley says. He rats a hand on his hip, accidentally pulling his shirt up a little bit, and the only thing Peter can see is a strip of exposed skin with freckles dotting the landscape. He must have freckles  everywhere , Peter muses. 

He wants to think a little more about finding that fact out, but Harley bringshim back to Earth. 

“So I talk first or you talk first...” Harley grins sheepishly. 

“Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t get an A, I think Simmons has it out for me...”

Harley grimaces. “Fuck. That’s Flash. Want to talk somewhere else.”

“Um,” Peter panics. Flash’s chatter only grows louder. “In here,” he says, dragging Harley into the dimly lit, surprisingly clean janitor’s closet by the bathrooms.

Why the fuck did he just do that? Why the  fuck !

“You go first,” Peter says with total fake bravery. 

“Ok,” Harley stutters. They’re awfully close under the faint lights. “I, um, I kind of wanted to ask you out?”

Peter balks. “On a date?”

“On a date,” Harley confirms. “I did my best to drop a few hints but I figured I should just ask.”

Peter drops his head to his hands. “Oh my god.”

Harley flinches back. “If you don’t want to, get it-“

“I thought you only wanted to have sex with me!” Peter blurts. His cheeks flush beet red. 

Harley chokes down a laugh.

Peter frowns. “Stop laughing. That’s not funny.”

“You’re cute when you’re pouting,” Harley reassures. “Trust me.”

Peter inches forward. “About that date?”

“Is that a yes?”

Peter forces himself to be brave, moving his hand forward until he brushes Harley’s belt, hooking his fingers around the loop. “Yeah.”

“Great,” Harley breathes. “I’ll text you when and where?”

“That’d be nice,” Peter whispers. 

Harley reaches forward, grabbing Peter’s hips. “Can I...?”

Peter answers for him, pressing his lips to Harley’s 

Whatever bullshit Hollywood romcoms have been going on about may be right. 

Kissing Harley is amazing. It’s an explosion of yes, yes, yes in his brain. He can practically feel dopamine surging through him, bouncing around his body. 

Harley opens his mouth, swiping his tongue against Peter’s lips to coax them open. Peter follows with a moan, grabbing tight to Harley’s hips. 

“Fuck, Darling,” Harley growls into his neck, biting and kissing at the skin. 

“Harley,” Peter moans. 

Harley seems to take his initiative, pushing Peter backwards until he hits the wall. He presses him into it, returning his lips to Peter’s.

It’s blazing. All he can feel is the firm movement of Harley’s lips, the burning sensation of his teeth as they bite his bottom lip, then the warm touch of his tongue as he smooths it over. Peter’s hands stretch across Harley’s back, chasing and exploring new paths. His hands clench on Harley’s hips, sliding down beyond them before he even knows what he’s doing. He squeezes. 

Harley moans, and the sound is fucking glorious. “Fuck,” he whines. “Fuck, Peter, oh my god-“

Against his will, Peter pulls Harley’s hips in, grinding his own against them, and the two of them fall against each other gasping. Harley slides his leg between Peter’s and pushes up. Peter whines and gasps at the friction. 

“Fuck,” Harley says when he forces his lips from Peter’s. “I am so close to fucking you in this closet right now.”

“Me too,” Peter pants. 

Harley looks at him with a burning gaze, taking him his probably flushed lips and rumpled shirt. “We shouldn’t.”

“We really shouldn’t,” Peter agreed. “You should take me on the date first. Then we can.”

Harley smiles down. “Sounds like a good idea, Darling.”

Peter blushes. “We also should, um, maybe get out of the closet.”

“Hah,” Harley laughs dryly. “Yeah. Been there done that.”

Peter snorts. “That was horrible.”

Harley smirks, biting his lip. “And yet, you laughed.”

Self control is something Peter used to have an abundance of, but after kissing Harley it’s like it’s all gone. But he still manages to restrain himself from pushing Harley back into the wall and kissing him further. “We should actually, like, get out of the school before they lock the building down. As much as I want to stay in here with you, we can’t.”

Harley wrenches the door knob open. “After you.”

Peter steps into the light, followed closely by Harley. He feels strong hands wrap around his hips. 

“Your neck is a mess,” Harley murmurs into it. He nips lightly at one of the bruises and Peter shivers. “At least I left you a reminder.”

“As if I could forget,” Peter breathes. “Now come on, cowboy. I wanna set up a date then kiss you goodbye.”

Harley spins him back around, then plants a kiss on his cheek. “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” Peter muses. “I’m not too good at this type of thing.”

“You’re excellent at a lot of things,” Harley remarks. Peter blushes.

“Like science, math, and robotics,” Harley states. “Get your mind out of the gutter Parker I’m not dating you for your abs. Which are a crime, you know. They’re too good.”

Peter laughs, and is startled out of it by the sound of a door. “Wait, what time is it?” He pulls out his phone. 3:45. School ends at three. “Oh shit. We’ve been making out for forty minutes.”

“Yeah, we better go,” Harley says as they both stride to the exit. “What is a good time for you?”

“Friday night?” Peter asks. “At like, 7 or something. I live with my aunt and she’s got a 36 hour shift at the hospital so I don’t have a curfew.”

Harley winks. “Text me the address.”

“Wait, I don’t have your-“ his phone chimes. It’s a text from an unknown number, that reads  mj gave it to me yesterday

Peter sighs. “Of course she did.”

Harley laughs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart. Now... you said something about a goodbye kiss?”

Peter smiles. It’s been just minutes since he was fumbling his words around Harley, and now it feels like he’s known him for years. Leaning forward, Peter slinks and arm around Harley’s waist before kissing him slowly. 

It feels like he’s kissing Prince Charming, like he’s standing on the fucking moors. He can practically feel the wind in his hair. It’s ridiculous. 

He loves it.

Harley’s hands come to life, wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush as Peter tilts his head. 

Harley gasps a breath. “Friday cannot come soon enough.”

“You’re telling me,” Peter breathes. 

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” Harley says. 

“Bye,” he responds, and turns around with a flush and a smile on his face. 

By the time Peter gets home he’s a mess.

Aunt May is puttering around in the kitchen, and he manages to slip past her with a short hello. When she asks why he was late he says he was hanging out with some friends.

“Ok, text me next time honey,” she says. “Peter?”

Peter panics, fearing for a second that she noticed something off. 

“Make sure you don’t forget again, ok?”

“Ok,” he responds. Aunt May may be sweet and nice, but she is a damn force to be reckoned with. Kind of like Pepper. 

Backing up, he slips from the main room and closes the door to his bedroom tight. “Oh my god.”

Harley’s made him feel like a teenager. Well, technically he is a teenager but nothing has ever made him feel like that. 

Peeking at the mirror, he catches a look at his neck and groans. 

Small, pink and purple hickeys, at least four of them, dot his neck. Make that at least five. There’s one right underneath his jaw. He touches it hesitantly and feels nerves fire at the small sting of pain and memory that sends shivers down his spine. 

He remembers how Harley’s figure looked in that closet. How Harley’s lips felt on his skin, hot and cold at the same time. How he changed under the dim lights and let Harley take control, let himself be under control.

“Jesus,” Peter mutters. No amount of sexual reminiscing will make the hickeys go away. He ducks out of his room and walks into the bathroom, rummaging through the bag of May’s makeup. Her shade is similar enough to his, so he takes out the foundation and puts a little dab on his finger, rubbing it in over the hickeys. In no time, they’re gone. 

Peter breathes. One problem down. Now he actually has to do his homework. 

It’s Friday evening and Peter is freaking the hell out. May left at five for her shift, armed with a thermos of coffee and a flask hidden in her purse, and he’s been pacing since. 

Harley said to just dress normal, if a little nice. He just wore jeans and a t-shirt. 

The doorbell rings and Peter jumps. He stumbles to the door, opens it, and there’s Harley. He’s wearing a black shirt and blue jeans the color of his eyes. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Peter squeaks. 

Harley grins. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He let’s Harley lead him down the stairs, and out the door to the street.

“So, because it’s New York and I am the grand age of seventeen, we have to walk,” Harley explains.

Peter laughs. “Sure.”

“That wasn’t even funny,” Harley chuckles.

“Your sense of humor is obsolete and that’s what makes you funny.”

Harley glances at him, a flash of a smile on his face. His hand brushes Peter’s, so he holds on and entwines their fingers together.

“This is nice,” He remarks. 

“Yeah,” Harley agrees. “Almost as nice as making out with you in a janitors closet.”

Peter giggles. “That was so cliche. Do you know I’m pretty sure I knocked something down? I heard a crash.”

“I didn’t,” Harley states. “I was probably too wrapped up in the curve of your neck to care.”

Peter blushes so much his face looks like a tomato. “Yeah, my aunt’s foundation may have a serious dent in it if you keep doing that.”

Harley bites his lip. “I’ll buy her new foundation if that’s what it takes.”

Peter’s blush only deepens. “Stop that,” he scolds without any heat.

“Stop what?” Harley quips. He looks over to Peter. “You’re cute when you’re worked up.”

“Oh I’ll show you cute,” Peter grumbles under his breath. 

~

“Thank you,” Peter breathes. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Me too,” Harley agrees.

Peter smiles, then on an impulse grabs Harley’s collar and tugs him down into a kiss.

It starts off sweet, earnest. Harley’s lips are firm against his, and Peter lets arms wrap around his waist, pulling them flush together.

Then everything changes. 

Harley spreads his hands wide on Peter’s back, pressing deeper into his mouth. 

Peter whimpers into Harley’s mouth while scrabbling for some purchase. He decides to grab Harley’s hips, pressing his kisses deeper and dirtier with every second. 

Harley forces himself away. “Peter.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to-“

“Yes.”

Peter grabs Harley’s belt loops, tugging him back into the empty apartment. “Unless you don’t want to,” he gasps into Harley’s mouth. 

“You have no idea how much I want to do  _to_ you,” Harley growls. “I am not stopping now.”

Peter pulls them both towards his bedroom, thanking a lot of things in existence that he convinced May to let him get a double bed. 

The door open, and Harley pushes him in greedily. He shuts the door and then presses Peter against it, lining them up hips to lips. 

“How far do you want this to go,” Harley pants. 

Peter bites his lip. “I want everything for you have to offer.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” Peter confirms. 

Harley grins wickedly and tugs on Peter’s shirt. 

“Fuck yeah,” the brunette groans, throwing his own shirt over his head before pulling off Harley’s too.

“Christ,” Harley murmurs. “How the fuck are you so ripped.”

“Exercise,” Peter pants between kisses. “And I assume you get your muscles from what, working on cars?”

“That would be correct.”

“I’m dating a dumb country hick,” Peter mutters. “This is just-“

He cuts himself off when Harley grinds down on him. “Ok I need those pants off, right now.”

Harley laughs, then pulls down his zipper and pants before shucking them off while Peter does the same. They tumble onto the bed together, clothed only in boxers. Harley grinds down and they both gasp.

“Fuck,” Peter whispers. “Fuck, Harley, please.”

“Whatever you need, baby,” Harley says. 

“Bedside drawer,” Peter gasps. “Everything you need.”

Harley pulls out lube and a condom. He wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Oh shut up, as you already know by the grace of my loud mouth I am not a virgin.”

“Well good for you because I’m not either,” Harley taunts. He tugs at Peter’s waistband. “I can’t exactly fuck you with these on.”

Peter grins, grabbing his boxers and pulling them down before dragging Harley’s halfway off too. Harley kicks them fully off, throwing Peter’s out of the way as well. 

“Please,” Peter begs. “Harley.”

So Harley gives him everything, and they don’t stop until they’re both satisfied, panting on the sheets, legs entwined. 

When he comes back, he finds Harley blissed out over him.

“That was fucking amazing,” Peter croaks. “We are so doing that again. But I gotta sleep first.”

“Mmm, me too,” Harley murmurs. Then he tenses. “You don’t mind me staying???”

Peter laughs. “Dude, you just stuck your dick in me ten minutes ago, you can spend the night.”

Harley laughs, and let’s Peter crawl of bed to clean then both up. After they’re both relatively clean, they crash on the bed together. 

“Do you think we should have waited?” Peter asks. 

“No,” Harley answers truthfully. “But that’s only my opinion.”

Peter smirks. “It’s mine too.”

Harley fake gasps. “You tricker!” He grabs Peter by the waist and hauls him close, tickling him. 

“Harley!” Peter cries. 

Harley laughs, and smiles, and as the two finally fall asleep together, there’s no place he’d rather be. 

**Author's Note:**

> god I try to write romance and I end up with mild smut I’m dumb
> 
> come yell at me on tumblr @all-this-panic-still-no-disco and come to instagram for a trash can of my faves @liza_marri


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